He closed the door softly behind him.
Mrs. Thornton's eyes swept questioningly, anxiously and a little timidly about the plain, simple, quiet room; and then she spoke, her voice unconsciously hushed:
"He—he is not here?"
Helena shook her head, as she led Mrs. Thornton to a chair.
"Not now," she said in a low voice. "The strain of this afternoon has left him very weary and very tired—much has gone out of him in response to the faith he felt but could not see."
"But he knows?" said Mrs. Thornton eagerly, reaching for Helena's hand. "He knows?"
"Yes," Helena replied quietly, "he knows. He always knows." She nodded gravely to the others. "Please sit down," she said.
Madison quietly took the chair nearest the table; Thornton one a little in front of Madison and nearer his wife and Helena, who were close by the big, open fireplace; the two Holmes sat down on the edges of chairs a little behind Madison; while young Holmes knelt, his arms in Mrs. Thornton's lap, his head turned a little sideways, his chin cupped in one hand, as he stared breathlessly around him.
It was the boy who broke the momentary silence.
"Ain't that other fellow here, neither—the fellow that was worse'n me?" he whispered.